Happily Ever After
by Sushibear144
Summary: Takes place after the wedding of E&D. ODC will have a few more challenges before they will find their happily ever after. The first several chapters are set-up for the plot.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Darcy walked to the foot of the bed and looked at his new bride. Her long ebony eyelashes rested on her cheeks and he wished he could see what dream was responsible for the contented little sigh that escaped her lips. Her peaceful countenance was almost too serene to disturb. Almost. Carefully, he reached his arm up under the feather duvet until he found her feet. He began to tickle her and was rewarded with a series of kicks and some low grumbling that spoke volumes of her displeasure. A mischievous smile lit up his face. He noted that tickling could stir her, but if he wanted her awake, he would need to resort to more drastic measures. He reached further up her legs and found her knees through the gentle touch of his fingertips. Then when he had narrowed in on the region for attack, he slipped his ice cold hands onto the back of her knees and laughed as she woke with a start.

"William!" She screamed jerking her legs away from the assault. "What are you doing?"

"Good morning, my love. Awake already?"

Elizabeth pouted as she carefully tucked the blankets around her securely creating a cocoon of warmth. "You purposely woke me and you know it."

With a look of complete innocents, Darcy said, "I believe, my dear, you are thinking of yesterday. I could not possibly have awaken you this morning. You asked me yesterday not to."

"You deny tickling my feet and then warming your hands on me just now?"

"Oh my. Did that wake you?"

"You most certainly know it did. And that was your intent."

"No. I most assuredly deny that I woke you this morning." Lizzy looked at her husband with a knowing look one gives a child who is obviously lying, and Darcy removed a gold watch from his pocket, opened it, and said, "as this timepiece will attest, I could not have woken you this morning for it is now half past noon."

Lizzy's face lit up and she lunged from her cocoon toward the object in her husband's hand. "You had it fixed!" He smiled and handed her the watch.

"Of course I did. Your grandfather's watch is not merely an antique, exquisitely made, and very valuable, it has something no other watch has — a special place in your heart."

Lizzy turned the time piece over in her hand then held it to her ear. "I can hear it ticking. Thank you, William."

"Of course." He watched her examine it and remembered an interesting feature. "I went by to check on the progress while the piece was disassembled. The watch has some beautifully engraved images on the inside face. It seems very unusual. On this model, the inside face would only be visible once the watch is taken apart. So no one would be able to enjoy the art work except for a watch maker. Do you know why your grandfather decided to do this?"

"Oh, my grandfather did not commission the piece. He won it in a card game. I do not know why the original owner might have done that. When my father married, grandfather gave it to him as a gift and told him it had always brought lucky the owner. My father told me that he believes I was the good luck that was brought to him, which is why he gave it to when we married."

"Well you should keep your watch," Darcy said wrapping his hands around hers and closing them around the watch. "I have you and that is all the luck I will ever require."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The room lay at the end of hallway tucked away from the main wing of the home. The hallway lacked the ornate mahogany ceilings, colorful Spanish tiles, thick wool carpet, and oil portraits adorning the rest of the Spanish Baroque mansion. It was not a place you would expect a man of his wealth and power to sleep, but Señor Santiago was not a man who cared about other's expectations. Tonight, the hallway felt as though it were empty of everything, save the pale glow of candlelight seeping out from under the door and an occasional rasping breath of a body clinging to life. That sound of futile desperation would shake the bravest man to his very core.

The story begins within that room, but before you open the door and cross the threshold, be forewarned, the scene that hides behind this simple piece of wood is not for the faint of heart. A man lays dying and death does not care for beauty. If this subject frightens or distributes you, there is no shame in turning away. Indeed, this scene is only the first of many deaths that will unfold. For what is life without death and this story is ultimately about of the most precious gift of life —love.

Señor Santiago was born the second son in a family of wealth and prestige. His elder brother, Juan, had the misfortune to succumb to Dysentery at the tender age of nineteen. His mother prayed for her son's soul and thanked God for having had the foresight to give her a second son. Señor S — who was only seventeen at the time, was still old enough to know what a stroke of luck his brother's death had been. Having experienced only the finer things in life he had felt ill-prepared to journey forth and make his own fortune but God had seen fit to spare him this struggle. God had welcomed Juan into heaven and had given him a life of ease and luxury. Now that his life was nearly spent, he looked at his own second son with a mixture of pity and guilt. His boy had not been so fortunate. In the morning, he would no longer be here on Earth to guide and protect his son. His eldest would cut him loose, and the child would need to find his own way in this world.

"I regret, my son, the burden you must face,". The old man had spoken the words at a great cost. Immediately following his declaration, a coughing fit ensued which ended only after he was able to spit out blood tinged sputum into the bowl he'd been given.

The boy by his side patted the man's hands gently, "I do not fear hard work, Father. Do not trouble yourself over my future. Focus on recovering."

"This is not what I regret. As the second son in our family line, you have been cursed." His eyelids had grown heavy, but this needed to be said.

"Father, this is delirium that plagues you. Sleep now and we shall speak again in the morning when you are rested."

"No." The strength of his tone and fire in his eyes made it clear he would not be deterred. He would speak, and his son would listen. "I will not be here in the morning. I know this because of the curse. You too will see it. You will have a vision of your own death. It will come near the end and will leave you with no doubt as to the veracity of my words. No matter how horrible it is, you cannot escape it. Do not even try. Any attempts to cheat death of his pleasures are futile and will only ruin your last moments here on Earth. When your vision comes, use it as a sign to say your goodbyes, conclude your business, and take in the last of the beauty surrounding you."

The boy nodded to humor his father, and in the weeks that followed, this warning was forgotten in the sea of grief and sorrow. The conversation of a half-crazed, dying man would lay dormant for nearly a decade, until the one night when the vision came to Miguel Santiago.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I completely thought I had posted this already. Opps. I wanted to start writing the next chapter and then saw I'd not yet posted this one. Silly me...

Chapter 3

August 11, 1750

Tomas sat at a table with his friend Juan. A bottle of rum half empty lay on the table between them. Juan fingered a gold pocket watch. "He just gave it to you?"

"Yes. And then he refused to take it back."

"And you are certain you had never met the man before?"

Tomas chuckled, "We are in Havana. I am a world away from my friends, family, and everything I have ever known. You are the only person on this God forsaken islands I have spoken more than ten words to until yesterday."

"Really?" Juan shook his head in disbelief, "We have been here for two months and you have not explored? There are over seventy thousand people in this city alone. Do you mean to say you have not spoken to any of them?"

"They work us all day and night. How am I to find the energy to socialize. And we leave for Spain next week. I no longer see the point."

Juan ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the table. It was a sign Tomas knew well. Juan was keeping something from him. "Did the man who gave you the watch tell you his name, or explain why he had given it to you?"

"He spoke less than I do. He simply said we would meet again soon and he wanted me to have it because he knew me to be a good man. How he could make such a claim having observed me for no more than two minutes, I cannot say."

"Well, Tomas, your benefactor is observant. You are a good man. Too good, in fact, to stay here with the likes of me."

Tomas's eyes shot up. "You cannot mean you are staying here! The El Salvador is set to sail in a week."

With a sheepish Juan pointed to a woman behind the bar. "That woman there is named Rosa. She is my destiny. I traveled over 4,000 miles to find her and I mean for us to start a life together. But I wish you well. You are meant for great things.

Tomas lifted his glass and toasted to Juan and Rosie. His heart broke a little that in a week's time he would be sailing across the ocean and would likely never again see his oldest and dearest friend.

August 25, 1750

The towering wall of water crashed into the side of the boat announcing the sea's rage. The ship leaned dangerously to one side. It was Tomas's first voyage on a galleon ship, and if he survived this hurricane, it would be his last. He had lashed himself to the mast, but this by no means assured he would remain on board. In the last half hour, he had watched a dozen crew members slip out from beneath their tethers into the violent sea. Their screams were lost against the crashing of waves and deafening gusts of wind. He scanned the waters around him. He wanted to see how the rest of the fleet was fairing but he could not see through the curtains of rain.

Seven days earlier, the El Salvador had left Havana as part of a fleet of seven. It had taken months to load the treasure for the Spanish crown onto the ships. This unexpected delay and the hope of avoiding pirates had placed them in the middle of the Caribbean during hurricane season and instead of catching the Atlantic Tradewinds on their way home, their ship was now being pulled up through the Americas by the Gulf Stream.

Tomas was paralyzed by fear and the knowledge he was helpless. Mother Nature's power was too great. He closed his eyes and prayed. He could not say for how long he clung to his bindings, begging God to protect him, but a piercing scream woke him from his internal dialogue. He opened his eyes and he saw Miguel clinging to a rope with a single fist while the ocean tried to shake him free. Tomas would never be able to explain what overcame him. It was as if the danger surrounding him melted away and all of his fear was replaced with purpose. He loosened the ropes holding him in place and went to Miguel. He grabbed the man's arm. He hoped to loop the rope, which still clung loosely to his waist, around the appendage thereby linking both of their bodies to the mast. His plan failed, however, when another wave washed Miguel off the deck. Tomas's focus shifted back to his own survival, and all of his strength went into holding onto the ropes he had loosened only moments before.

To say the ship battled the sea would be like saying the flee battled the dragon. The ship merely waited for its ultimate demise which eventually came when it went aground. With one final push, the El Salvador hit a sandbar and broke apart. Once the hurricane passed, the ship was covered in eight feet of sand and all but four of the crew members had perished.

Tomas woke up on the banks of North Carolina. He had lost everything but his life and was overcome with guilt for being so fortunate. As he lay in the sand, he reflected on what he had just overcome. He rolled onto his back and noticed a hard lump digging into his leg. He reached beneath him to remove the rock, but there was nothing there. And then he remembered. In his pocket lay Miguel Santiago's watch.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

August 26, 1750 – Spain

Jose Perez sat at his desk waiting for the last of his colleagues to leave for the evening. He had received a missive from his counterpart who was located in the New World and was responsible for overseeing the collection of gold, silver, and other riches belonging to the crown. If he was receiving this document today, it meant that the treasure had been handed off to Miguel Santiago weeks ago for shipment. The ship may have already left Cuba by now, Jose though wishfully. It had been scheduled to depart sometime this month, but there were far too many variable to know with certainty if it had yet set sail.

He broke the seal and unfolded the sheet. He retrieved and opened up his ledger then dipped his quill in ink. Carefully, slowly he copied the list of items delivered to the El Salvador in the ledger.

It was treason to steal from the crown, and soldiers guarded against theft by bandits and pirates. But who was watching the soldiers? The conditions at sea and those in the New World were harsh. The life one could buy with even a fraction of the riches traveling from the Americas would cause temptation to fester in the most honorable of men. And those involved with transporting these goods had both the means and the motive to steal from the crown. The desire had to be overwhelming. It must have crossed the mind of more than one man that if something went missing, no one would ever know.

Hence men like Perez and Santiago. Well educated men, who were paid enough that the lure of small riches did not measure up well against the act of treason and men with strong connections to Spain so the thought of being forever cut off from their homeland was an effective deterrent against larger thefts. These men were responsible for monitoring and inventorying the treasure throughout its journey. Different men were responsible at different stages.

Once the ship arrived at port, Jose would receive a second document from Santiago. Then a third such list would arrive. Each list should be the same. The coins would have been counted, weighed, and recorded, as would the gold and silver bars and every other item of value. The first list was created when the treasure was collected, next when it was loaded for shipping, and finally when it was offloaded and delivered to the treasury. Each list was sent independently to Jose whose job it was to transpose the information into the ledgers and checking for discrepancies. Should one of the men who has access to the gold succumb to greed, he would need to convince the others to alter their reports or Jose would discover that a theft had occurred.

No one could altered the reports independently, except of course, Jose. At one time, even the thought of committing such a crime was abhorrent to him. But that was years ago before he had acquired a taste for the card houses. Now, he was heavily in debt and death was imminent if he could not find a solution.

Fortunately Jose, having no access to the gold, had no means to benefit from such an act. At least not until he met Miguel Santiago. Santiago had done his research and knew where the weak links in the system existed. He was aware that Jose had a gambling problem and child on the way. Santiago had devised the scheme and all that was required of Jose was that he subtract 50,000 pesos worth of gold from the figures identified on the first list he would receive. Santiago would do the rest. He would ensure the chest "disappeared" and his list as well as the list of the man receiving the inventory would not reflect what was no longer there. Several people would need to be paid, but Jose would receive enough to settle his debts and if he destroyed all evidence that his ledger was altered, no one should discover his deception. This plan would be implemented on the shipment carried by the El Salvador. Jose would trade his honor for his life.

September 20, 1750 - Spain

"The El Salvador has sunk, you say?"

"Yes. It was taken out in a hurricane."

"And was any of the treasure recovered?"

"No. All $290,000 pesos were lost."

"That is over twenty chests of gold and silver! Nothing was recovered?" The man standing opposite Jose shook his head. "And there is no way to retrieve it?"

"No, sir."

This could be stroke of luck. With the shipment lost no one would spend a great deal of time verifying his numbers. All that mattered was that a large fortune was gone. If the fortune appeared to be $290,000 rather than $340,000, all the better. And his guilt was assuaged. He had only taken that which would have otherwise been lost to the world. It had not occurred , to Perez that Miguel Santiago could have parished.

"We should leave the crew in the Americas for now. They can sail over the next shipment," Jose said, turning to leave.

"Most died in the wreckage, Sir."

This news did not sadden Jose Perez. Faceless men whom were never met and who cannot impact your life are easy to forget. But there was one soul on that galleon that mattered. "Did Miguel Santiago survive?"

"Only four men survived. He was not among them."

"Are you certain?" A nod of the head was his reply. Panic began to set in. "How do you know? Could he have left the site before help arrived?"

"One of the survivors saw him get washed off the deck, Sir. We are certain he did not make it."

"Did he have any last words?"

"I… we… they did not think to ask, —-."

"Well send a letter off to whomever is investigating this disaster, and find out what he said. It is of the upmost importance."

Days turned into weeks and Jose Perez grew more and more despondent. His work suffered, his family suffered, but mostly he suffered. Thoughts filled his mind of what would become of him when they came to collect his debts only to find nothing. It would be a slow and painful death. They might kill his wife and unborn child in front of him, just to make him suffer. Once it became clear that Santiago had said nothing that would enable him to find the 50,000 pesos he had been hidden away, Jose Perez took his own life. Two days later, a letter would arrive. A letter Miguel had left with a friend on the day the El Salvador had set sailed. A letter that would remain unopened and would go in a box with the rest of Jose's personal effects. A letter that would continue to be unread for nearly 70 years.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: whooo... we got through the set up. Finally, back to Regency England. Readers often request more scenes of ODC interacting. This is the primary purpose of this chapter. There is only a small bit that is necessary for the plot. I should point out, someone on a JAFF group was saying she hadn't found a JAFF that takes place after they are married that she likes. A good story has to have conflict and since Darcy is such a great guy, and they now know they are in love, what kind of conflict can happen to make a good story? This is my attempt to try to address that issue. I'll be interest to see if I succeed or fail.

Chapter 4

Darcy used the tips of his fingers to brush the dark brown curls away from Elizabeth's face.

"Huuummmm," she mumbled. The corners of her lips curled up but her eyes remained closed.

Darcy leaned over her, and in the softest of whispers said, "I'm sorry. Did I wake you, my darling?"

A mumbled "Nearly" came from his semi-conscious wife. He moved his hand away from her face and stared at the angel lying in his bed. It was only through sheer will — and by constantly reminding himself that they had the rest of their lives together — that he managed to refrain from leaning over and brushing his lips against her cheek. He had finally found contentment. He could think of nothing more he could want out of life.

Ten minutes passed before one of Lizzy's eyes cracked open and looked up at him. "Will this be a ritual?" she asked, still groggy. "Do you intend to spend the first hour of every morning watching me sleep."

"I would spend every moment you were asleep watching you if it did not interfere with my ability to spend every moment I am awake enjoying your company." Elizabeth rolled from her stomach to her side. She stretched out her arm and lazily let it fall on top of her husband's hip. "I did try my hardest not to wake you this time," he continued. "Were you unable to fall back to sleep after I brushed your hair back to better see your face? You looked so tired I had thought you would be able to."

"I may have been able to fall back asleep, but the warm, rhythmic breeze caused by your breathing reminded me that my reality is far more pleasant than anything my subconscious could dream up." The arm draped over him tugged a little, letting him know she wanted him to move closer. He obliged and slid an arm under her so he could embrace her in a hug. Soon he found himself on his back, one arm wrapped around Elizabeth, and her head resting comfortably on his chest.

"So what shall we do today?" Darcy asked.

"I like what we are doing right now," Lizzy said as she drew little circles on his chest. "But I suppose it would not do to spend all day in bed. People would start to talk."

"Let them talk," Darcy said holding her in place.

Elizabeth giggled. "I thought a picnic might be nice. Mrs. Reynolds mentioned there is an old rope swing attached to a branch over a river you very much enjoyed as a boy. I thought we might go there."

Darcy's eyes widened. "Did she mention it is a rope swing that one attempts to hold onto until they are over the middle of the river, at which time they let go and fall into the very wet water below?"

"Well I cannot imagine liking my water any other way. I have seen it solid, but find when falling into it, wet is the best option." Lizzy said very matter-of-factly. "And I could not imagine a better alternative for a rope swing placed over a river than the one you describe."

Darcy's grip on Elizabeth tightened. "I have spent a life time finding you, and as daring and bold as you may be, I will not allow you to engage in anything so risky as the things you suggest."

Lizzy smiled. "I merely suggested a picnic. It is you who assumes I wish to use the facilities installed at that location."

"But you did nothing to correct my assumption," Darcy pointed out.

"Do you not feel I am now making you doubt my desire to use the rope swing?"

"Yes, I guess you are. But you are failing to be definitive on the matter. Promise me you will not do anything so foolish or dangerous today and we shall plan on a picnic."

Lizzy got a defiant look in her eyes. "I shall promise nothing. I told you before we wed, I do not wish to give my husband the power to make decisions for me. Instead you must have faith in my judgement. But as I love you very much, I will divulge this: given the recent weather trends, I imagine I would find the temperature too cold to wish to engage in activities requiring swimming."

Darcy pulled her head toward him and kissed the crown of her head. "You are stubborn as an ox and impossible, Mrs. Darcy."

"And you would not change me even if you could," she added.

"No, I would not."

The couple lay on the blanket admiring the view. "Does your river contain fish, Mr. Darcy?"

"Do you mean our river, Mrs. Darcy?"

"If truth be told, I actually mean to ask if fishing in the portion of the river which runs through the grounds of Pemberley would yield results," Elizabeth said carefully.

"Then your answer is yes. At least when I last checked. Believe it or not, I have spent the better part of this last year chasing an altogether different type of creature. It left me with no time for the idle sport of fishing."

"Yes, I do believe you. I saw evidence of your traps throughout my travels. I had not known them as traps at first for they were poorly made in the beginning."

"I had very little experience in hunting that type of prey."

"And I will endeavor to make sure you never again find need for such skills," Elizabeth said as she reached into the picnic basket and removed a bunch of grapes. "I ask after fishing as I was wondering if you might teach me."

"Teach you to fish?" Darcy asked. "I am not sure that is a pastime a lady would find enjoyable."

"I would not be learning to fish in hopes of finding enjoyment in the activity. Rather, I would've learning because I know I would find pleasure in the company. My parents spend far too little time together, and I am determined to broaden my interests so we might find things to enjoy together on a very regular basis."

"I see," Darcy said as he considered this concept. "In that case, I shall attempt to do likewise. Maybe you can teach me to draw."

"Oh, no," Lizzy giggled. "I cannot teach that which I do not know. But I can teach you to sew a little."

Darcy blushed at the thought. "Perhaps I might simply read while you sew," he suggested. "This will allow us to stay together in the same room."

"But the best part of sewing is the conversation, Mr. Darcy. How do you propose to converse while reading?"

"If I am to learn to sew, you must teach me somewhere where I will not be seen."

Elizabeth giggled. "Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes?"

"I hate sewing. I merely wanted to see to what lengths you would go to in terms of engaging in activities I enjoy."

He reached over and grabbed her. "You shall need to pay a forfeit for your teasing." He kissed her.

"If that is my punishment, I see a great deal of teasing in your future."

He kissed her again, and they spent a lazy afternoon enjoying the Pemberley countryside.

"Why the long face?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy sat on his side of the bed looking over a letter which had arrived from London. "I must go to London for a few days."

"Have you received bad news," Lizzy asked with concern.

"No. It is not that anything is wrong, it is just that I had hoped to remain here for several months. But my solicitor requires my signatures on some documents and prefers not to send them by post. I have never cared for the City, but now leaving is ten times harder."

"Fret not," Elizabeth said as she set the book she had been reading on her nightstand. There was a loud thud. She looked at the floor to see what her book had displaced. "Oh, dear."

"What was it?"

"My grandfather's watch." Lizzy stood from the bed and retrieved the timepiece. "It looks as though I have damaged the face." She frowned.

"I will bring it to London with me and have it repaired. There is an excellent watchmaker there who should be able to make it as good as new in no time."

"Is it the same watchmaker who fixed it for me when we were in London?"

"The very same."

"See. You were destined to make this journey and will come home to me within a week." Elizabeth set the watch on top of her book, climbed back into bed and cuddled her husband. "Besides, do they not say that absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

"Elizabeth, my love, if my heart grew any fonder, I do not think I could stand it."


End file.
